Dem Crazier Mages
by automatic teller machine
Summary: Sequel to Dem Crazy Mages. First chapter: Ozone Oublieux begins his quest to vanquish the Upper-Class Twits and lays claim to an extreme wealth of power. Pico and Chai in the meantime begin the zombie apocalypse.


Author's Note:

get asked by two anons to update The Memoirs of Medlar

UPDATE EVERY FANFICTION EXCEPT TMoM EVEN LONG-DISCONTINUED ONES

OCs belong to me

All other characters belong to Brownie Brown.

Synopsis: a certain prettyboy is tired of being pushed around. He also sings a heartfelt duet with Medlar's father.

IN WHICH OZONE LEAVES THE UPPER-CLASS TWITS, PRESUMABLY FOR GOOD- Part One

It was a beautiful sunny afternoon at Will O'Wisp. The sun was shining, the flowers were smiling, birds were singing and haters were hating. And one certain boy was very, very annoyed.

His name was Ozone Oublieux, and anyone who paid regular attention to the Magical Starsign category on would probably know him, considering the author writes far too many OC-centric fanfictions for the fandom. It certainly wasn't doing anyone any favours. But that wasn't why he was annoyed. (Will O'Wisp didn't even have internet, after all.)

No, Ozone Oublieux was annoyed because a certain group of upper-class twits he belonged to were treating him like a footstool. In fact, that was their name- the Upper-Class Twits. Now that he thought about it, Upper-Class Twits was such a silly name. It wasn't even remotely funny either, not even in an ironic way. It was just the sad truth. The Upper-Class Twits were a bunch of upper-class twits. Maybe that cursed Medlar Hannelore was right. Although technically she was left, because that was the hand she wrote with. Medlar was always frustratingly left. Some of the time, anyway. Medlar constantly picked fights with the UCTs- this included taking over the twenty-eight centimetres squared that was UCT territory in one of their corridors, and forcing an unwilling salamander to fight their leader in what was an inexplicably odd and cack-handed crossover. Maybe this was a good idea.

Maybe...

Maybe Ozone should fight the UCTs in a display of dramatic irony in order to resign from them once and for all.

"Yes," he said to himself. "Yes. That is a very good idea."

His pet fruit bat Petula squeaked in confusion, for she did not know what her owner was talking about. Currently, the two were in the school basement, for Petula liked it best down in the deep darkness of the cellar, and Ozone liked it too, because it was a good place to think. Petula didn't know what Ozone was thinking about, though- she may have been adorable, but she wasn't a mind-reader.

"Petula, I've decided," Ozone told his pet. "In order to free myself from the clutches of the Upper-Class Twits, I'm going to fight them."

Petula squeaked again. This time, the squeak was in shock and horror rather than confusion.

"I'm sick of them pushing me around," Ozone explained firmly. "And even if they didn't treat me like a footstool I would hate them all anyway, because they're all such horrible excuses for people."

Petula nodded her head (well, she tried to) in agreement.

"But I don't just want to fight them normally," Ozone said, slamming his fist dramatically on a nearby box. "I want to wipe the floor with them. Crush them into the ground. And it's going to sound mad, I know, but I know exactly the person to help me do it..."

Meanwhile, outside, the rest of the UCTs sat on their literal turf.

"You know," said Tapenade Gretchendale, as he munched his way through a caviar sandwich that costed more than what the author's parents earned per year, "Ozone has been acting very suspiciously recently.". Tapenade was in the Upper-Class Twits because his father earned a lot and had a trophy wife, meaning they had every right to besmirch the planet with their snobby little hellspawn. Those philistines.

"Yeah," Liquorice Miasmette agreed. "He's, like, ditched us.". Liquorice was in the Upper-Class Twits because she was quite literally a twit and set feminism back a couple thousand years. She also talked like a valley girl, which was terrifically irritating.

"I would take an educated guess and proclaim that the charlatan is attempting to overthrow us, but that is quite clearly bloody impossible," Presse Silverstone-Smythe mused. "After all, he's not nearly courageous enough to do that.". Presse was the leader of the UCTs, because he had the most money and the longest surname.

"Maybe, like, he's totally dating Medlar behind our, like, backs," Liquorice suggested, immediately sniggering at her own joke.

There was a silence from the other two punctuated only by Liquorice's giggling (which sounded like the noises a sea lion makes when its face is being smothered by a pillow made of ambergris) Then, after a moment of very careful thought, Presse turned to face Liquorice.

"You may be the thickest one out of all of us, but that hypothesis holds notes of pure genius," he said, awestruck. "It makes so much sense that Ozone and Medlar would be in a relationship with each other behind our backs! He's avoiding us because he doesn't want to show his face around us now he's canoodling with such a peasant!"

"I say we tear their relationship to shreds!" Tapenade declared.

Somewhere in another part of the school, Chai the salamander and Pico the human were baffled. The fun would never end- it was Homework Time™!

"Dude," Pico whined, for what was the fifth time that day, "there's no way we're gonna get this done on time! No wonder I always put off my Necromancy homework!"

"This is so gross," Chai wailed, completely ignoring Pico as he lightly prodded a dead rat with a stick.

The two boys, for their Necromancy homework, had been charged with a relatively simple task: revive the rat from the dead. It just so happened that neither of them knew peanuts about Necromancy, and so here they were, in the lab on a weekend, taking vague instructions from an unhelpful textbook.

"This is impossible," Pico moaned, eyeing the book in disgust. "How are we meant to snipple the snapple sassle if the sassle has no razzmatazzle?"

"Wait, give me that," Chai said, taking the textbook from his disgruntled friend. "What does it say about zipping the zoobity zop bop?"

"I don't think it says anything about zipping the zoobity zop bop, but d'you think we should mop up the blops?" Pico asked, poking the dead rat with his finger and shuddering at the feel of dead rat fur on his skin. "Looks like our only option."

"Mop up the blops?" Chai echoed. "But that's crazy!"

"Yeah!" Pico exclaimed. "And crazy is _our style!_"

In this next perspective flip, we change to somewhere entirely outside from Will O'Wisp. This place was where Ozone was going to seek help. He had signed out for the day, pretending to be stricken with some kind of illness that required days on end at home to recover, and amazingly enough, it seemed to work. It was probably a good thing, too, because he was going to need days to prepare if this person was willing to help him.

This person was Medlar's father.

"What a plot twist!" Petula commented. Although Petula was not human and couldn't speak, the author still knew what she was saying thanks to the powers of the third person. Isn't it amazing, writing? I know I love writing, otherwise I wouldn't be doing it now for virtually no profit apart from the smiles of fellow fans at their computers. Such a warm, fuzzy feeling it delivers! To be able to deliver another happiness with mere words on a computer screen! I am proud of my position as a fanfiction writer, I wouldn't trade it for anything. To be able to communicate with characters both mine and those belonging to a video game company somewhere in Japan is just a delight! I love it so much, I just cannot even...  
"Please, author, do shut up," said Petula. "Nobody cares, seriously."

Right. Okay. Sorry.

"Petula?" Ozone asked. "Are you alright? You seem to have hunched up all of a sudden."

"The author's gone all sappy on us," said Petula. "Do we _have _to take her along?" But all Ozone heard was "Squeak!"

"Just hang in there," he told his winged rodent friend affectionately, giving her a scratch under the chin. "We'll make it there eventually. Mother of mothers, why does Medlar's father live so far away? It's almost as if I snuck into the school office to peek at Medlar's parental records for nothing."

Yeah, Ozone actually did that. What a rebel.

"Most people would consider that creepy," said Petula, but of course Ozone didn't hear that either.

"If what I managed to find of an address for Clafouti Hannelore is correct, he lives in the single hut on the Pier of Penchant," Ozone explained, feeling glad that he had Petula to continually make observations to. "I hope it's not outdated. I do recall Medlar not living at the same address as him..."

Ozone and Petula continued down a long, winding road. Neither of them had any idea where they were going. However, their instincts told them they weren't horribly wrong.

Soon, fog began to gather around their path.

"Fog!" Petula exclaimed. "This means our location is indeed ominous!"

"Calm down, Petula," Ozone told his pet, oblivious to the true meaning of the squeak. "I know it might be scary to you, but you're a bat, and you find most things scary."

"Do yourself a favour, Ozy," said Petula. "Invent yourself a bat translator. It might save a few rash conclusions from being jumped on."

He didn't hear that either.

Ozone continued to walk through the fog, Petula perched on his shoulder. Soon the fog grew so thick and Ozone's motivation so downtrodden he was considering turning back, but then his nose caught wind of the scent of salty water, and seaweed. Lots of seaweed.

"The sea?" he asked himself. "I'm at the coast already?"

The fog conveniently began to clear, and Ozone realised he was indeed at the coast. It was too miserable a day to play on the beach, so it was practically empty on the shore. That wasn't the bit he was interested in, however. The bit he was interested in was the jetty, and the small shack perched at the end.

"You don't suppose that's his house?" Ozone asked Petula. "Clafouti Hannelore's, I mean. But there's only one way to find out."

"FIIIIIIGHT!" Petula yelled.

"My, my, Petula, your feathers certainly are ruffled today," Ozone remarked, staring at his pet bat in awe. "Although I suppose you don't really have feathers, do you? Anyway, you may have your objections, but there is absolutely no way I cannot go ahead with this plan. If I manage to usurp the UCTs, they'll probably be so embarrassed that they abandon the whole concept of a group completely. And then..."

He looked towards the sky, and smiled.

"And then maybe we'll all be able to live as equals."

He walked towards the jetty, trying not to look down at the filthy seawater that was raging just one pole's length below his feet. And he nervously approached the hut, knocking on the door nervously.

_I sure hope this is the right place,_ he thought to himself, not sharing his opinions with Petula for once. _If someone answers that door and isn't Clafouti Hannelore, well..._

The door opened. Well, "opened" was probably too generous a word- rather, it creaked about a mouse's-toenail width ajar, and a suspicious eye glared down at Ozone.

"Who're you?" For all the adult readers of this out there (of which there probably are none), you ever get that thingy with the engine on a winter morning when you're trying to start up the car and the engine just won't comply to your ever so polite demands and just keeps jumping about and making growly noises? Well, that was what the voice of whoever said "who're you" sounded like, and it scared the everliving daylights out of poor Ozy.

"I beseech your aid!" Ozone yelped, out of uncertainty as to what to say.

The suspicious eyebrow of the suspicious eye raised itself. "This some kind of tomfoolery you're pulling on me, sonny? Clear off."

Ozone made some unintelligible stammering noises, and pulled himself together. "This is no tomfoolery, sir- no, certainly not... um... I, uh, you see, I've heard of you from... people. They say you're a very strong dark mage. Is that right?"

The suspicious eyebrow arched even further. "From... people? From what people?"

The suspicious eye was giving him no mercy in the death-glare department, so Ozone just decided to make up a total lie. "My friend Medlar told me..."

The door opened completely. "You know my daughter?"

"Yes!" Ozone exclaimed, grateful that he and the owner of the suspicious eye and brow were on the same wavelength.

"Come in," said the man.

Ozone walked into the shack. It smelled something foul, as well as being filthy- how on earth was he to reach his timely goal in conditions like _this?_ But then his conscience told him his inner Upper-Class Twit was showing, so he covered up quickly and sat down on a nearby box. The man closed the door and kneeled in front of Ozone.

"Tell me, young man," he said in a very gruff tone, "what kind of aid do you need?"

"Well, you see, a gang of bullies formed long ago at Will O'Wisp, naming themselves the Upper Class Twits, and included me as one of them against my will," Ozone explained, attempting to make the situation sound more dramatic than it actually was. "They've taken to inducing misery into the lives of numerous students of Will O'Wisp, and your daughter is among them. I wish to face them all in battle so that I may completely curbstomp them all and serve them justice on a platter, with all the trimmings. And I require your prowess in the dark arts to pwn them to a suitable level of pwnage."

"So what you're saying is," Clafouti said, giving Ozone a look, "is that you want me to help you to be the very best, like no-one ever was."

Ozone nodded. "To fight them is my real test. For justice is my cause."

He stood up from his box, and proclaimed dramatically, "I have travelled across from school, searching far and wide for your house, so that each Upper Class Twit may discover the taste of fresh dust on the floor!"

"It's you and me!" Clafouti exclaimed. "I know it is your destiny!"

"Ohhh, you're my best friend, in a student body we must defeeend~" Ozone sang.

At this point Petula was terrified, but nobody cares about her.

"Upper Class Twits!" Clafouti exclaimed again, pointing to the ceiling. "A collection of hearts so untrue! Beastly dark magic and much unnecessary violence will pull us throoooough!~"

"You teach me and I'll teach youuuuu!"

"UPPER-CLASS-TWIIIIIITS!"

These two are beginning to frighten me too, so I'll just switch perspective back to Will O'Wisp real quick.

"Dude," said Pico, "do you really think we should have mopped up the blops?"

Chai and Pico stared at their dead rat with uncertainty. They had indeed mopped up the blops- and I don't mind telling you, mopping up the blops is a rather advanced necromancy technique, one too grisly to describe, a technique the boys had only just mastered, and neither of them were feeling too hearty about their rash decision to mop up the blops.

"We should have just zippity zooed the flip flop pork pop and got done with it," Chai whined.

"Oh man," Pico cried, "_why didn't we zippity zoo the flip flop pork pop?_"

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Chai noticed a small twitch in their deceased rodent.

"Hold up," he said, "I think something might be happening!"

"Dude!" Pico exclaimed joyfully, seeing another twitch. "Maybe it was a good idea to mop up the blops instead of zipping the zoobity zop bop!"

"Hooray!" the boys cried, and high-fived in joy.

However, their joy was soon subsidised by a rather disgusting smell.

"Oh man," Pico said grimly, "that bad smell doesn't smell good."

Chai was too distracted by the smell to point out the redundancy in Pico's sentence, and the two boys recoiled in horror as they realised the smell was coming from the rat.

"We celebrated too soon," Chai said shakily.

"_We shouldn't have mopped up the blops!_" Pico screamed, shaking Chai by his shoulders. "_We should have did what we were told, bro! We should have snippled the snapple sassle, even if the sassle has no razzmatazzle, and then we should have zipped the zoobity zop bop just in case! WE DEFINITELY SHOULDN'T HAVE MOPPED UP THE BLOPS!"_

Chai offered no yelling in return, but he did start crying.

Then the rat twitched again, and it got up from its place, still looking completely dead.

"Why, what would be the motive behind this balderdash?" it asked. "You seem to be all of a tizzwas about something, dear boy! Care to tell me why?"

Pico stopped shaking Chai, and stared at the rat. "Dude... was that rat able to talk before?"

"No," said Chai, through a long stream of tears.

"Indeed, I was not able to communicate in such a manner before!" said the rat. "But it is due to you boys and your marvellous manner of mopping up the blops that I can! Allow me to extend my utmost gratitude, fellow gentlemen!"

"Uh, yeah," said Chai nervously. "You speak awfully fancy for something that's got all of its brains falling out."

"Oh yes!" said the rat. "I do say, this lack of brains on my part does bring forth an awful sense of longing. I do desire some more brains to make up for this shortcoming. Would you two boys be willing to lend me some of yours?"

Although neither of them were particularly academically equipped, both of them had been taught the immediate answer to a question such as this, and they barked it out in perfect symphony.

"NO!"

The rat grew a very disturbing grin, made ever more hideous by the fact that he was missing part of its tongue. "_That was not a question!_"

"RUUUUUUN!"

Okay, so that perspective wasn't exactly less weird either. Back to Ozone and Clafouti it is.

Ah, they've finished their singing. Wonderful.

"Now listen to me, boy," Clafouti said. "The dance I am about to teach you shall be the key to unlock the power in your mind to totally pwn those no065. Use it well. Once you have mastered it, I shall teleport you and your bat back to Will O'Wisp, where your final trial lies."

"Sir, yes, sir!" Ozone exclaimed.

(Their singing session had proved so awesome Ozone now considered Clafouti a figure of authority.)

Clafouti then began to perform the most awesome dance ever known to humanity. It was so awesome the author instantly grew a handlebar moustache upon describing it with this laptop of mine. The dance was the very centre of the universe, the very meaning of life. In fact, upon dancing the awesome dance, Clafouti was immediately awarded with a top hat and quite a dashing tuxedo, which he wore for the rest of the awesome dance.

"Now you must perform the dance, as I did," said Clafouti, in a tone of voice which said 'I have just danced the awesomest dance in existence'. "Exactly as I did, mind."

And Ozone, although doubtful, began to perform the awesome dance. However, he soon realised that it was the truth. He was destinied to dance this dance. Yes. This dance was invented for him; his slender legs and his beautiful frame, his overly long (but beautiful nonetheless) black hair, his steely determination, his pet bat who was now contemplating suicide. Somewhere from within, a door unlocked, and from it, power and fortune spilled.

"You've done it, boy!" Clafouti exclaimed. "You have truly danced the dance!"

Ozone stopped his awesome dance, and stood upright again. "I did it?"

"You did it," Clafouti smiled. "Now go. Your final test awaits."

Ozone and Petula next found themselves just outside the courtyard where the UCTs resided.

"We don't want to disappoint Clafouti, Petula," Ozone told his companion. "Especially not after he taught us that secret to eternal power."

"You mean he taught _you,_" Petula whimpered.

"Let us go forth!" Ozone exclaimed.

So he opened the door that let into the courtyard and walked over to the well nonchalantly, where the three Upper-Class Twits happened to be standing. There were sounds of great screaming and cursing coming from the well. All three of them had dastardly grins plastered on their faces, especially Liquorice.

"What in tarnation is going on here?" Ozone asked, completely forgetting the pre-buttkicking speech he had prepared to say three seconds prior.

"Oh, you're just in time, Ozone," Tapenade grinned.

"So nice of you to show up," said Presse murderously.

"Just in time for what?" Ozone asked, ignoring Presse.

"Just in time to see us as we totally THROW STUFF AT YOUR GIRLFRIEND WHO IS IN THIS WELL," Liquorice cackled.

"Girlfriend?!" Ozone echoed. "But I never had a-"

"Face it, Ozone, your secret's out!" Presse declared. "We all know of your secret romance with Medlar!"

"I'M JUST AS CONFUSED AS YOU ARE!" came the voice of Medlar from the well.

"Oh, you filthy charlatans," Ozone said slowly, looking down the well, and then gazing at each Upper-Class Twit's face individually. "I am not in a relationship with Medlar. I was never in a relationship with Medlar. Why'd you go and do that? Just push her down a well?"

"We thought it'd be funny," said Tapenade.

"Right, that's it, I've had enough of your pretentious balderdash!" Ozone proclaimed, stomping his foot. "You are all pathetic human beings, fuelled on nothing but schadenfreude, like robots!"

Ozone turned towards the fourth wall. "And I mean no offence to Mokka, either."

He turned back. "Thus, it is now that I wish to reverse the situation and do battle with you all! And if I win this battle, you must all cease your loathsome mannerisms at once!"

The three paused, nothing but shock on their faces. Presse was the first to pull himself together.

"So be it!" he exclaimed. "Consider our fight... begun!"

A giant "versus" sign appeared between Ozone and the Upper-Class Twits, and dramatic smoke poured out from somewhere, causing Liquorice and Tapenade to cough like hags. There were also sounds of choking and screaming from the well (Medlar had some kind of fear of smoke)

"Hold on," said Presse, "our dramatic smoke is never _that _dramatic."

Ozone smirked. "Maybe now your sick abuse of money is coming back to haunt you?"

"No, you idiot," Presse snapped. "You smell that?"

There was indeed a stench of burning in the air... and for some reason, rotting flesh.

"Oh no," said Petula.

Liquorice screamed. "That bad smell, like, totally doesn't smell good!"

"I know that smell," said Tapenade gruffly. "That is the smell... of the _zombie apocalypse!_"

All five of them screamed.

Now, reader, you may be asking, how precisely does a fruit bat scream? I wondered that too once, but I know the answer now, and I'm very glad to recount this knowledge! You know vampire bats, and how they turn into vampires? Well, fruit bats have a similar ability in that they turn into fruit! Each fruit bat turns into a different fruit depending on its DNA. A good way to determine the fruit your fruit bat will turn into is to measure its wingspan. Ideal objects to measure the wingspan of a fruit bat include vacuum cleaners and broomsticks. This is because if the wingspan of a fruit bat equates to that of a broomstick, it will turn into a fruit that grows on a tree, such as an apple or an orange. The precise fruit can be calculated by taking your fruit bat and licking it to determine the taste. If the wingspan of the fruit bat is any shorter than a broomstick the fruit will be of the plant variety, such as a strawberry or raspberry. Tomato fruit bats are in existence, but quite uncommon, and under no circumstances should be put in a freezer. I don't know how this explains the ability of the fruit bat to scream, but it is a nice thing to know. Now onto the next part, which will explain the mating ritual of the

"_SHUT UP ALREADY!_" Ozone screamed, in what was a rather abrupt interruption of quite an interesting paragraph. "There's a _zombie apocalypse_ going on, and all you can talk about is fruit bats?!"

"I agree with the traitorous fool!" Presse exclaimed. "We're postponing this battle, and _getting the hell out of here!_"

Liquorice and Tapenade made noises of agreement.

"But not before we grant those two a final romantic moment before their inevitable and grisly deaths!"

"Wait, _what-_"

Suddenly with overwhelming strength Tapenade and Presse took Ozone by his shoulders and in a move that would have impressed the crowd at a rugby match, they shoved him down the well.

"Oh, I get it now!" said Ozone, as he fell into the stone-walled abyss. "You mean a romantic moment with _Medlar! _ Man alive, by the way you worded it, it seemed like you wanted me to have a romantic moment with Petulaaaaa_aaargh!_"

SPLASH!

~To Be Continued~


End file.
